Incandescent (14 page)

“Thanks, Dad. I’m tired. It’s been a long
day. Anna’s father’s car caught fire today.”

Cooper grunted. “You think it’s
connected?”

“Not sure. I had it impounded and I’ll look
at it tomorrow. Strange coincidence, wouldn’t you say?”

“Damn strange,” Cooper said. “Get some rest.
We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Aaron dropped the cell phone and closed his
eyes again. He used his toe to slide off his shoes, kicking them to
the floor. He slept.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Aaron sat in the leather chair and studied
the man across the desk. Judge James Braddock Johnson rolled the
expensive ballpoint pen between his fingers. He tapped the yellow
legal pad in front him, staring at the notes he’d made while Aaron
talked.

“So, you’re sure about this,” he said.

Aaron nodded. “It’s a simple, effective
device. The tilt fuse is used in making car bombs. The maker fills
a small glass test tube with mercury, which is easy to get. They
order it online. The opening is wired with the ends of an open
circuit to the car’s electrical firing system. When the tilt fuse
is bumped, the mercury flows to the top of the tube and closes the
circuit. This happens when you hit a pothole or a speed bump. The
circuit completes, igniting the explosives. In this case, the
explosives were two full tanks of gas with a dozen M-88
firecrackers stacked between them.

“If the fuse hadn’t failed, or if they had
been M80s, your car would have exploded.”

James shook his head in wonder. “Who would
have done something like this?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out,” Aaron
said.

“Does this have something to do with the fire
at Lacey Martin’s house?”

“It could be, sir. While the car bomb is a
clear case of arson, perhaps assassination, the fire’s cause is
unknown. We’ve pinpointed the source. Candles ignited towels in the
downstairs bathroom, and from there, the fire spread throughout the
house. We don’t know who lit the candles. Or why,” he added as an
afterthought.

“Why would someone do something like this?
Why would someone try to kill Lacey and then try to kill me?”
James’ eyes widened as he realized the truth. “It wasn’t supposed
to be Lacey. Whoever did this, meant to kill Anna. Didn’t he?”

He stood abruptly, shoving his desk chair
aside. He pulled open the top drawer and withdrew the keys to the
rental car. Depressing a button on the sophisticated telephone on
his desk, he barked, “Mrs. Spencer, please cancel all of my
appointments for today. I need to leave.” He switched off the
speaker as a confused woman replied, “Yes Judge. Of course. Is
everything ....”

“I have to see Anna right away. She needs to
be protected,” James said.

“I’ve already spoken with her. She and
Gretchen are meeting us at your house. They have a police
escort.”

“Good.” James sighed in relief. “Let’s
go.”

“One moment, sir,” Aaron said. “I’ve brought
the FBI and ATF in on this. The fact someone tried to kill you may
be related to the house fire. The truth is, judges are sometimes
targeted. I’ll be working with them on this, sharing notes, but the
fire at Lacey Martin’s is not a part of their investigation.
Regardless, I’ll continue to focus on the original incident.”

James nodded approval. “Thank you, son. I
appreciate your help on this.”

Anna stared at the thick file on the dining
room table. Aaron sat across from her, his laptop open and his
fingers flying over the keyboard.

In the kitchen, Gretchen made another pot of
coffee. The grinding stopped and the aroma of fresh beans seeped
into the air.

From the living room, James went over the
final instructions with the alarm company’s technician. New motion
sensors and cameras monitored the house’s occupants and the
property outside.

Gretchen put mugs, a sugar bowl and a pint of
cream on the counter separating the kitchen from the dining room.
She added the coffee carafe to the collection. Spoons rattled as
she dropped them onto the granite surface. “Come and get it,” she
said. “You gotta make your own. I’m not taking orders.”

Anna ignored Gretchen’s bossy attitude,
knowing courtesy didn’t come easy for her spunky friend. She’d
grown up in a large family of boys and being last in line meant she
had to fight for what she wanted.

“Can I get you a cup of coffee?” she asked
Aaron.

He kept his eyes on the computer. “Yes,
please.”

Anna waited several heartbeats. “How do you
like it?”

“Black with sugar.” He squinted as he
adjusted the angle of the laptop screen.

A minute later, Anna slid a cup of steaming
coffee toward his left hand. She put her hand on the thick folder
by his right. “Can I look through this?”

Aaron glanced at the folder, hesitating
before he acquiesced.

Anna sat, put her own coffee on the table,
and opened the red file. Several snapshots fell out. She picked
them up. “I didn’t know people still used Polaroids,” she said as
she flipped through the snapshots. She narrowed her eyes at the
content, studying the photos. There were close ups of burn marks on
the tiled bathroom wall. Another photo showed a black streak
trailing the hallway. She paused, squinting at one photo in
particular.

“What’s this?” She held the photo out to
Aaron.

He didn’t take it. “Fire detector.”

Anna examined the photo again. She tilted her
head and bit her lip.

Gretchen looked over her shoulder at the
photo. “What’s wrong?”

Anna handed her the snapshot. “I’m not sure.
Look at this.”

Gretchen studied the photo, turning it upside
down and back again. “Is this a Polaroid? I thought they went out
of business.”

“Not that,” Anna snapped. “I mean, yes, it’s
a Polaroid, but that’s not what’s strange about it. Look at the
fire detector.”

“Is it broken?” Gretchen asked, looking at
Aaron.

He shook his head and kept his focus on the
laptop. “No. It’s just open. We took the cover off to test the
batteries. It’s standard procedure.”

Gretchen handed the photo back to Anna. “Oh,
okay.”

Anna tapped the photo. “No. Look at this,”
she said, handing the photo back to Gretchen. “Go ahead. Take
it.”

Gretchen accepted the photo. Like Anna, she
tilted her head to the side. The corner of her mouth lifted into a
wry grin. “I’ll be damned.”

Tears filled Anna’s eyes and she started
trembling. “You see it,” she whispered.

Aaron’s eyes darted from one to the other.
“See what? What is it?”

James entered the dining room and noticed
Anna crying. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Gretchen handed the photo to Aaron. “Anna’s
right.”

James put a protective hand on Anna’s
shoulder. “Right about what?”

“Someone changed out the batteries, Dad.
Someone set the fire deliberately.”

James looked at the closeup of the fire
detector showing the generic red batteries sold as a house brand by
major retail stores. “How you can you tell?”

Gretchen pointed to the photo in James’ hand.
“Those aren’t the kind you guys use, is it?” she asked Anna.
“There’s no way Lacey would buy cheap, disposable batteries. She
wouldn’t be caught dead using them. Sorry. My bad,” she added when
Anna flinched.

Aaron shook his head. “I’m sorry, this isn’t
proof. The only one who can verify if the batteries were changed is
Lacey, and she’s not talking.”

“You do believe me, don’t you?” Anna
pleaded.

Aaron hesitated too long.

Anna snatched the snapshot from her father’s
hand and flipped it at Aaron. It hit him in the chest before
dropping on the carpet.

“What’s it going to take to convince you?”
she demanded.

Aaron slipped the photograph under a paper
clip holding the report. “Circumstantial evidence is all you have.
It’s admissible in court, but you need a lot more of it to build a
case. You think your friend wouldn’t use …”

“I know it!” Anna said, fierce tears beading
her lashes. “Lacey is my best friend. I’ve known her for more than
twenty years. We grew up together. We’re closer than sisters. When
you’re close to someone, a person you love with all your heart, you
know what they’re capable of doing.” She held up a hand, stopping
Aaron from interrupting her. “And, you know what they’re not
capable of doing. Lacey would not sacrifice her principles to save
a couple of bucks.”

“Even if you’re right, your instinct isn’t
tangible proof,” Aaron repeated. “I need evidence to obtain a
warrant. Who do I arrest? If the house fire and the car bomb are
connected, they’re arson. I’ve been over the house several times.
Everything still points to accidental negligence. The bomb is
premeditated arson.”

Aaron tossed the report onto the table. “An
arsonist is motivated primarily by three things: excitement, profit
or revenge,” he continued. “If you were the initial target, not
Lacey, then the attempt on your father’s life points to revenge. Is
there anything you can think of, anyone who wants to hurt you?”

“Of course not! I don’t have any enemies that
I can think of. Except for Timmy Stanton,” she said, arching a brow
at Gretchen. “Remember him?”

Aaron seized her arm. “Who is he? Why would
he want to harm you?”

Anna snorted. “I’m kidding, Aaron. Timmy
Stanton was my nemesis in fourth grade. He was a bully and a creep
who used to pick on me until Gretchen beat him up one day after
school.”

Gretchen made a muscle and kissed her bicep.
“Kicked his ass.”

“So, if neither Dad nor I have any enemies,
how do we find out who did this?” Anna asked.

Aaron sat at his laptop and opened a
spreadsheet. “First of all, we haven’t ruled out someone from your
father’s past. There are hundreds of cases, probably thousands of
people who could have a motive,” Aaron said. “We go systematically,
starting at the beginning. We connect the dots.

“It’s suspicious, but the two arson cases are
different enough they might not be related,” he said. “I have to
access the BATS database, so that would be a good place to
start.”

“What’s that?” Anna asked.

“The Bomb Arson Tracking System maintained by
the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives,” he said.
“I can use the arson and explosives incident database to search
trends and compare incidents. I look for similarities in motives,
leads and potential suspects. I can search for previous fires with
similarities. Do you have a printer?”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Several hours later, with Gretchen camped out
on the living room sofa and Anna napping in her bedroom, James
found a name. Using a bright yellow marker, he’d been highlighting
anything familiar. One victim’s name in particular jumped out.

He tapped the page. “Aaron, look at this. I
know this man.”

Aaron pulled the page from James’ hand and
read. “This family lived in upstate New York. He taught at West
Point.”

“Yes, Lt. Col. Charles Halstead,” James said.
“Except, when I knew him he was an Army Judge Advocate. I worked in
his office.”

Aaron waited for James to explain.

“My folks didn’t have much money, so I went
ROTC in college. After graduation, I worked as an Army paralegal
specialist until I saved enough for law school. I met Angela while
in college, you see, and the life of an Army wife wasn’t for her.
So, I did my time, earned my degrees and we relocated here.”

“What did you do for Halstead?”

“Paralegals do a lot of research. We’d
prepare legal documents in court martial and nonjudicial
punishments. We would interview witnesses, organize separation
board proceedings. We also provided assistance in family law, such
as wills and power of attorney,” James said. “Honestly, we had a
lot of responsibility. Halstead was a good man. A good JAG.”

“Can you recall anyone who may have wanted
him dead?” Aaron asked.

“You don’t stay in the job for long without
making enemies,” James said. “Every man he prosecuted could be a
suspect. Or woman, for that matter. You have to remember, this was
in the seventies and there were service women, too.”

“Can you give me a short list of places and
times you spent in the Army, and people you may have worked with
while you were in Halstead’s office?”

“That was a long time ago,” James said with
reticence. “I’ll do what I can. I have an old photo album. Maybe it
will jog my memory.”

James stood and stretched. “It’s been a long
day. You can stay here tonight, if you wish. We have a guest
bedroom.”

Aaron shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll work
on this for a bit longer,” he said, indicating the spreadsheet on
his laptop. “I’ll sleep at my motel room.”

“I appreciate all you’re doing for my
family,” James said. “Well, goodnight. You know the new alarm code,
so you can let yourself out.”

With Fred, the ever-loyal retriever, on his
heels, James mounted the stairs to his room.

Aaron heard the opening and closing of
several doors, and the sound of running water. Several minutes
passed before he heard a new sound — soft footsteps padding down
the stairs. His nostrils flared when he caught Anna’s signature
jasmine scent.

Seconds later, she leaned into his back. She
nuzzled his neck, trailing soft kisses along his ear.

Aaron closed his eyes and rested his hands on
hers, stilling them as they quested down his abdomen.

“I woke up and missed you,” she whispered.
“Come upstairs with me.”

“I have a better idea,” he said. “Come with
me back to my motel room.”

He felt her smile as it curved against his
skin. She nibbled his earlobe, making him flinch. He tugged her
hands into his lap, pressing them against his zipper.